Angels Walking (9 page)

“Yes, I’m calling about an account. It’s past due and . . .”

It was the third collector of the day and the answers left Angie exhausted. There had been times like this before, but never this bad. Sometimes she wondered if maybe Bill was weary of the business, distracted by the way he constantly missed Tyler, and always wondering how they’d gone so wrong when it came to their son.

Bill walked in and came to her desk. “I’m finished for the day.” His shoulders stooped more than usual. He didn’t bother to smile. “Let’s get lunch.”

Angie shut down her computer while Bill took the article from her desk and read it. He must’ve had it memorized by now, same way she did. He looked up. “Has he called?”

She stared at him. Was he kidding? Of course Tyler hadn’t called. They hadn’t heard from him in four years. Not since his first arrest. She shook her head. “No. He hasn’t.”

Bill nodded, his eyes back on the paper, distracted. “I can’t imagine how badly he must hurt.”

The way we all hurt,
she thought. But she only sighed. “Let’s lock up.”

Lunch was usually at their favorite spot, a café a few blocks from the warehouse on the north end of Simi Valley. Their favorite table was outdoors beneath a Sycamore tree. Somehow the place felt private, despite the traffic. They ordered their usual iced teas and salads and took their seats.

“It was all my fault.” Bill stared over his drink at the distant mountains. “I know that now.”

This wasn’t the first time he’d made the confession. Angie sipped her drink. “Too much baseball.”

“No one should lose his son over a game.” His tone was quietly fiery. “No one.”

For a long time they were quiet, and the years played over again in Angie’s mind. It started with the Little League Championship, of course. That was the dividing line. Life before winning the title.

And life after.

“Things were so good when he was little.” She wasn’t really making conversation. It was more of a fact. Proof that life hadn’t always been this way. “He was the sweetest boy when he was younger.”

“He was an athlete from the time he could walk.” Bill’s eyes glazed over, as if he’d taken up residence some fifteen years ago.

After the championship Bill was absolutely convinced Tyler was going to reach the pros. He used to talk about the spot on the mantle where Tyler’s Cy Young Award would go. The boy wasn’t even in high school yet.

“Did we talk about anything else?” Bill blinked and his eyes met hers. He set his iced tea on the small round table. “Besides baseball? Did we ever talk about God?”

Angie wanted to give him words of comfort. But she had to be honest. “It was a lot of baseball.”

“Mmm.” He nodded, repentant. “I read a verse this morning. ‘What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his soul?’ ”

“Powerful.” Angie’s words came easily. This wasn’t the first time they’d talked about their regrets. It wouldn’t be the last.

“The verse landed differently today.” Bill narrowed his eyes. “What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his son? That’s how I heard it.”

Tears stung Angie’s eyes. If only money weren’t so tight
they might’ve flown into Pensacola this past year and seen one of Tyler’s games. Surprised him afterward with a hug and a dinner out and a chance at reconciliation. Tyler had long since changed his phone number, so they couldn’t call him. Early on, Angie had tried social media—a tweet congratulating him for a winning game or a comment on Facebook. But Tyler hadn’t been active on social media for years.

Nothing had sparked a response, anyway.

“He must hate us.” Bill looked ten years older than his late forties, a broken man going through the motions. “Right? Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know.” Angie ran her fingers down the cold sweat on her glass. “Hate’s a strong word.”

Not that she would’ve blamed him.

She remembered once when Tyler came home from school, his face all lit up. He had asked Sami Dawson to homecoming and she’d said yes. But Bill jumped on him before he had a chance to talk about it. “You’re supposed to be at practice.”

“I talked to Coach. Today was the only time I could ask Sami to—”

“Sami? You’re missing practice for a girl?” Bill wore his work jeans and a denim button-up yellowed with sawdust. Angie could still see him, his scowling face. “Are you serious, Tyler? This is your senior year!”

“I’m not skipping, Dad, it was just—”

“No!” Bill wouldn’t let him finish. “You can’t let anything get in the way, son.” He folded his arms, his expression a mix of disappointment and anger. “We’ve put everything into your baseball. Someone out there is working harder than
you. And when it comes to earning scholarships, he’ll be first in line.”

“Yes, sir.” Tyler didn’t argue. He never did. But the light in his eyes was gone.

Bill pointed at the Little League trophy on the fireplace. “Get back to school. Don’t come home until you’ve done your workout.”

“Yes, sir.”

Angie blinked and the memory faded. She had long since forgiven Bill for pushing their son away. But it didn’t change the sad fact. She turned her eyes to her husband. “You okay?”

Bill was staring at the mountains again. “I don’t think I told him enough. How much I loved him.”

“He knew.” Angie could feel her heart breaking. “He had to know.”

“I’m not sure.”

They needed a miracle. In their broken-hearted state, both Bill and Angie had tried to find their faith again. They sometimes read their Bibles and on occasion they prayed. They had even talked about attending church again. But more than all that, they needed a miracle.

The café door opened and a waitress approached with their salads. She was new, a pretty girl with golden red hair. Angie hadn’t seen her before.

“Here you go.” She set the salads down and smiled at the two of them. “Sorry it took a little longer. It’s my first day.”

Angie looked at her nametag. “Ember.” She found a smile for the young woman. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t seem in a hurry to get back inside.
“I moved here a few weeks ago. The weather’s amazing.”

“Yes.” Bill seemed to remember his manners and snap out of his reminiscing. “It’s the best.” He looked up, his eyes softer than before. “Welcome to town.”

“Thank you.” Ember hesitated, and her expression grew deeper. “So . . . I heard you talking about Tyler. Your son.” She stared intently at them, her eyes full of light. “I know him. I came here from Pensacola.”

Angie sat a little straighter. What? How could she have heard them talk about Tyler? And how would she know which Tyler? “You . . . know our son?”

“Tyler Ames?” She slid her hands in the pockets of her apron, her tone rich with concern. “Yes. I know him well. I saw him just a few days ago.”

“A few days ago?” Bill seemed confused, too. “How did you—” He stopped short. “How is he?”

“He’s hurting. Badly.” The young woman frowned. “He’s very alone and desperate. Baseball is all he’s ever known.”

Angie felt chills run down her arms. The waitress knew Tyler very well indeed. “We want to talk to him . . . but he . . .” She didn’t want to say too much. “We don’t have his new number.”

Ember took a step closer. She exuded peace. “Do you really want to talk to him?” She looked intently at them, and Angie had the feeling they’d known her all their lives.

“Of course.” Angie felt practically desperate. “It’s all we can think about.”

“Okay, then.” Ember’s tone had a calming effect. “I have a suggestion.” She hesitated. “Pray.” Her tone grew more serious. “When you pray, you will reach God . . . and He will
reach Tyler. Pray together and pray often. Pray as if Tyler’s life depends on it.” She looked from Bill to Angie. “God is aware of the trouble with Tyler. But you must pray.”

“We will. We’ve meant to do that.” Bill looked as if he wanted something more, something concrete. A tangible plan—especially since Ember seemed to know so much. “Is there anything else? A way to find him?”

“Please.” Angie’s heart rate picked up speed. “If we had a number . . . or an address.”

“I’ve told you what I know.” Ember looked over her shoulder and then back at them. “Battles are won and lost through prayer.”

Angie still couldn’t believe this strange conversation. Was she dreaming? The waitress couldn’t possibly have known who they were. “How did you say you knew Tyler?”

“I didn’t.” Ember smiled. “Let’s just say I care very much for him.” She put her hand on Angie’s shoulder.

Bill was on his feet. “I’ll leave now. I’ll take a bus if I have to, sell the shop.” His eyes welled up. “Whatever I have to do. He’s my son. I . . . I love him.”

“I know.” Ember’s words warmed the space between them. “Don’t be discouraged. For now . . . please pray. God is in control.”

Slowly, Bill settled back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Ember’s.

“Thank you. For talking with us.” Angie put her hand over the young woman’s. She felt a empathy like none she’d ever known before. “We will pray . . . we won’t give up.”

“Good.” Ember took a few steps back. “I have to go. Don’t forget. Tyler needs you.”

She gave them each one more look, then turned and walked back into the café.

Angie stared at her husband. “What in the world?”

“How could she have known whose parents we are?” Bill leaned his forearms on the table on either side of his salad.

“She was inside when we were talking about him. She couldn’t have heard his name.” Angie picked up her fork and then set it down again. “Do you think Tyler talked to her about us? Showed her a photograph?”

“Maybe.” Bill looked at his salad and then up at his wife. “She said to pray.” He held his hands out to her. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

And so with hands joined, Bill prayed out loud for their son. That he might find help and hope. That he would not give up and that this situation might lead him home. Once and for all. Before they left, Angie and Bill stepped back in the café to find Ember again, thank her for talking to them about Tyler.

But the young woman was nowhere to be seen.

Bill shrugged as they turned to leave. “She must’ve gone home.”

“We’ll look for her next time.” Angie walked beside him back to the car. “The important thing is that we pray.” She looked at her husband. “The way we used to.”

As they drove back to the shop, Angie felt hope work its way through her heart. This was the best breakthrough they’d had in years. A few hours later she had an idea. She could call Jep Black, the Blue Wahoos manager, and ask for Tyler’s new number. Something she wouldn’t have done when Tyler was playing for the team. Too pushy. But now the
plan made sense, and like that, they were a step closer to reaching him.

With Bill at her side, Angie tried the number, but there was no answer. She tried again every hour on the hour. But still he didn’t pick up.

Before turning in that night, Bill took her hands again. “I want to go to church this Sunday. Start being the man I used to be.” He paused. “Before baseball took over.”

“I’d like that.” Angie rested her head on his chest and then looked in his eyes. “I want to find him, Bill. He needs to take our call. Let’s pray for that.”

He kissed her tenderly, the kiss of a man desperate to make things right. And with that he began to pray once more, thanking God for the chance meeting with the waitress and asking Him for a miracle. That somehow, against all odds and understanding, Tyler would do something he hadn’t done in years.

Answer their call.

8

T
YLER CALLED VERIZON AND
cut his phone service the moment he finished packing. When he could afford it, he would pick up a cheap phone at Walmart, pay by the minute. In case of emergencies. He was out of his contract, which meant his phone was worth about a hundred dollars cash. Verizon would be his first stop once his car was loaded.

Before he turned it off for the last time, he grabbed a pad of paper from his dresser drawer and scrolled through his phone book. Any number he might need he would somehow use his left hand to scribble down for later. Even if the numbers would be hard to read.

Near the top of the list were his parents. Bill and Angie Ames. He’d entered them that way, since he hadn’t thought of them as Mom and Dad for years. He stared at their names. What were they doing today? They’d be at work, of course. Trying to get ahead in the fence business. Tyler slumped over the paper, discouraged.

At least his dad could make a living.

Wasn’t that what the man had warned him about? Pass up a scholarship and there’d be nothing to fall back on. Tyler wondered where he’d be now if he had a degree in communications or business. He could probably make a few phone calls to a handful of alum and have a desk job by Monday.

His dad had been right.

He’d been right back then and he was still right today.

And what about his mother? She had always taken his father’s side. Tyler could picture her quiet in the background, never standing up for him. What he would’ve given if just one time she had told his father to back down, to lighten up. If she had reminded them both that it was just a game.